The Wolf and the Fox
by esuterutomoru
Summary: Starrk has been caught in the depression of solitude for hundreds of years, silence his only company. Sleep and hunting, sleep and hunting, was all he thought he desired. To his surprise all it takes is a cunning fox's touch to draw a howl from the silent wolf. - Smutty GinStarrk in that order, AU Hueco Mundo setting, no Lilynette, please, don't stone me.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach or any of its characters! This is merely a figment of my dirty, dirty imagination.

**Warning:** GinStarrk in that order, AU Hueco Mundo, no Lilynette, SMUT.

**The Wolf and the Fox**

It's dark. Very dark. The kind of darkness that holds secrets fast. The wolf is sleeping, lazy under the weight of a solitude he tried in vain and never could get used to. Sleep and hunting, sleep and hunting had been his life for hundreds and hundreds of years and hunting and feeding made him stronger than strong, making him unapproachable. He banished thoughts - never fully - of any other desire he might have had. There was no partner that would remain alive under the pressure of his prowess. He had been doomed to loneliness. Or so he has believed but the world is vast and he had been pulled into a group strange enough to welcome, no, even need him. That is where he had met him, the fox.

The fox wanders his quarters undisturbed, though there's nothing much to see. His eyes are bright in the darkness, a pair of cool blue pinpoints from afar, beautiful and terrifying. He steps to the wolf's side and bends down to place his lips at his ear.

"Primera-han~" He calls his title, chuckling because he knows the wolf hates it. He never wanted the top position. He never wanted to be so strong. He never wanted to be lonely. The void of the Heart, the hollow hole, is gaping sorrowful and empty on his chest. The fox reaches out with his pale, long fingers to trace the edges and the wolf stirs on his soft, comfortable cot, groaning in displeasure. "Seems I woke you. My apologies." He doesn't mean it one bit.

"You..." It's tired and unhappy, slightly gruff from just being woken. The wolf regards him with dull, grey eyes and the fox knows he'll be unwilling like he has been every time. It might be a game the wolf enjoys, he isn't sure, but he will play it until they have the time - it's too short.

"You looked quite depressed today. At the meeting." The fox traces his jawline and the wolf tilts his head away, turning to his side to climb back into dreamland where he's surrounded by people, faceless but happy, anxious little things dancing around him and jesting till he laughs. He's never laughed before.

The wolf won't answer. The fox grips his shoulder and turns him onto his back again. "Were you missing me?" He teases, the sly carnivore, his smile showing his teeth cold white. His eyes are taunting. The cunning cool blue, pinning the wolf to the spot and though he is larger, _the fox knows where to bite._

"Leave me alone." He says without much conviction, especially with that forlorn little expression on his face the other predator takes delicious pleasure in. He pushes at the slim, murderous hands carefully, too lazy or too seduced to exert himself further. The fox climbs on top of him effortlessly and he makes a small, angry or anxious huff as he stares at him. His grey eyes, steel silver, are wary and nervous of where and how the fox will touch him this time. He wants to be aware of everything but he is too swift, too deadly to follow. He'd better close his eyes but the fox above him is gorgeous when he hunts him down so he will watch despite his own judgement.

"Leave you alone? I could do that, perhaps..." Liar. The fox slips his fingers to the edge of his hollow hole again and he shivers, swallowing because however strange and painful that feels, it's beautiful with an unwelcome pleasure. He feels, unexpectedly, whole again. "...but wouldn't you be awfully lonely if I did?"

The fingertips, roughened on the hilt of a sword, slip inside and caress the void, the helpless emptiness and the wolf grinds his teeth hard on an uncertain howl that never escapes him. He beckons the fox with every inch of him, especially the defiant, weak glare of his eyes and his downturned lips. But he is no fool, he knows well. The fox is a predator, he will hunt him. Yet the wolf is one too, although much too lazy to run after the swift fox. He hunts with vulnerable patience, waiting for the fox to be inevitably lured to him. Perhaps both of them are silently aware that there are two pairs of jaws biting.

The fox expects no answer and leaves no space for it. His thin biting lips are on the wolf's and there's no resistance, maybe a miniscule of it to keep the pretense up a bit longer but their tongues know each other well already and the wolf lets his eyes shut as he fights a little noise of hunger. There's need and will and lust between them, simmering slowly in the beginning because they have the entire night for now. The fox will not change the pace, heeding the wolf's desire with proud mercy. The wolf will take it as such though both are just unwilling to acknowledge and say the real reason.

Clothes fall away. Why would two predators need even a single bit of fabric between them? This is no time for human pretenses. They are what they are, teeth and fangs and claws and death. And they know, do not mind, but embrace the true nature of carnal instincts. The way the wolf presses his fingertips into his back is ecstatic. There's spit between their mouths, dirty and slow wet, but his partner is still unwilling to make a noise further than little breaths of anxiety.

The fox won't have that. The wolf knows and waits for him to conquer, waits for him to pull another sweet trick to seduce him. There's a deliberate, slow grind of hips and he stiffens tight, shivering hard until the rush of heat lasts, throbbing between his legs. The fox enjoys the conquest. He smiles a smile of carnage into their kiss then drags his mouth back from his and he catches after him helplessly before dropping back useless to the pillows. He averts his gaze and makes a yawn for show. He ruffles the fox's fur. The bite into his throat draws a grunt from him finally and he catches the light of triumph hot and gorgeous in the fox's eyes. Good.

He seals his mouth tight again. The fox lingers on his throat with lips and tongue soft and he can't help but push his hand into his silken silver hair. He lays beneath him, spread out naked and expectant. He won't do anything to seduce back and that seduces the fox beyond reason. He is riled up and excited when he grinds against him, rocking slow to drag hot skin on hot skin, becoming slippery with sweat and _more_.

"I don't need to do much to make you drip, do I?" Blasted fox and his wonderful sly tongue! His skin prickles with the tease and he puts his hands at his shoulders to press at him. He is so hard. His spine is on fire. The fox sinks his teeth into his collarbone and it stings sweet near his hollow hole. Yes. _More._ What was he trying to do?

"Hmmm... how's your hole feeling? Is it hot for me yet? Your lower one, I mean." Oh... The wolf makes a loud, indignant grunt and shoves hard, kicks with his long legs and the fox catches one deftly, clasping his white fingers into his thigh as he bends down and to the side and presses his thin mouth to the inside of his knee. "Mm... you know I love it when you struggle a little. Why would you egg me on?" He smiles, the sly murderer, tongue dragging hot and wet down his thigh. His skin burns. The entire area between his legs feels like it's on fire. Fuck.

His eyes flash up, cold amusement on blue, and the wolf curses under his breath, his chest heaving for air. His grey eyes, his entire face seems angry terrified. It feels so good. He desperately needs more. The fox licks his lips slow and deliberate and the wolf jerks back anxiously. It's such a game. They are both lost in it with their claws in too deep.

The fox forces his hips in between his thighs close enough to rub his length against his clenching buttocks. The wolf arches away, hands grabbing on the covers of the pillows beneath him. He has been staring at the man's groin for seconds now. He can't tear his gaze away. It's the very embodiment of the fox's sensuality and lust. He wants it bad and they both know. The fox slides forward in another rub and the wolf slowly eases against him this time, breath hitching once before returning to his deep panting. They fit together well. Ridiculously well, it's like the fox was made solely for him. The thought is baffling and stupid and the wolf shames himself for it but there's no time to wallow over it. The fox - _his fox_ - begins pressing inside.

The heat. It comes like waves crashing over his head. He squeezes his eyes shut at first in shock because it stretches and he's always just this side of ready when they... There's a bit of pain, like he's been forced and that's a wonderful illusion for his remaining pride. He spreads his legs though - can't hold himself still - and groans, his eyes opening along with his mouth. His gaze is lustful. Dirty and hot. His fox is leaning over him panting in ecstasy. He makes him look like that. He makes him shake and hiss in need. The moment gets to his head and he shows what lies dormant inside. The viciousness. The animalistic lust. The wolf clasps his hands onto his bare back and yanks him down, _come on_. He wheezes when he's forced deeper and he hears his fox growl. Good.

They are just beginning to settle into the position. His fox is clenching his hands into the soft pillows. He's melted into them, though hard and stiff in excitement, his limbs feel heavy and useless. He strains to keep his legs apart, strains to hold onto the fox. The wolf seethes through gritting teeth, tilting his head back and he's the one to begin the dance.

His hips grind slow and clumsy with incessant need. Heat pours over him, pooling down in his stomach, in his loins, in his ass. It's wonderful. Carnal. He digs his nails into the fox's back and grunts. He's a wolf. He's a predator. He has him in his hold now and won't let go. The fox knows and presses his sly mouth at his ear.

"So tight, Primera-han..." He won't say his name. Why? But the evil smile on his face, a little teasing grind of his hips, the devil, so arousing. The wolf can't wait to see him lose his brilliant mind to him. He's the one to make him... So _hard_. He clenches, involuntarily in sudden panic, and his face is aching red so he tilts his head away to hide, fighting the moment for a dazed second of reason still lingering. He pushes on the fox suddenly and moans, helpless as he pulls back and drags fire all over his insides. Shit. He's lost.

"I'm inside you..." The fox purrs. "All the way inside you..." He goes on, sly, sly, evil silver demon and he thrusts hard, as if to show his words were true. As if the wolf didn't already know. But his spine is blazing. It feels _so good_.

He grips his back again. He's shaking. There's a spot inside that drives him wild and he's scared yet impatient to have his fox touch it soon. They lock gazes but if only they didn't. The fox sees his lust and fear and quickly angles his hips. The wolf fights fruitless to squirm his hips away, the fox strikes home and he tosses his head back with a begging grunt. His brown hair sticks to his forehead and he dazedly realizes he's soaked in sweat.

"You're very quiet today." He points out and the wolf cowers helplessly in embarrassment. He was found out: he's trying harder than usual. The fox is roused curious. He knows and loves it all. The way he looks at him searching with those eyes so cold and only ever open for him. The way he touches, holds him down, pins him harder by the shoulders, exerting himself just a little to have him better. He works to get him. He works to make him come undone. The wolf knows his fox likes to conquer. "Doesn't matter, you know? I'll make you howl anyways..."

The wolf knows and hanging onto his shoulders, he waits expectantly. His fox bends down to kiss his lips, strangely silky and sweet, like a promise, and the wolf shakes his head to battle a blush he didn't want or need. Damn him. He knows _just_ where to bite.

His fox smiles. Smiles a smile of demons cold, sharp as the blade of a sword and just as deadly attractive. The wolf falls victim to it, legs spread, body trembling, ass stretched to fit, stuffed full. They barely even began the night. There will be more. He sees it on his fox's face as it changes sadistic hungry, his thrusts beginning slow yet hard to rock him violent along the pillows. His spot is plunged deep, rough enough to make his body jerk when its found and he grits his teeth, claws his fox's back but to no avail. He's in Heaven. His fox makes sure. It's wonderful mad and he draws the red welts of gratitude onto the pale canvas of his rippling back. He blinks his eyes open carefully, tears lingering there strange and salty as his inhibitions slowly slip away into carnage. His, his fox is already crazed, gorgeous evil in his sensual massacre. The abuse continues relentless and too soon the wolf's expression twists, _fucked up_ into bliss and his head tosses back violent with a hoarse howl of complete ecstasy...

When his fox allows him rest at dawn, he curls up nervous tired into the pillows. There's still a lingering burn of lust beneath his skin, there will always be, but he knows it's unwise to give in when there will be prying eyes too soon. He feels his fox move beside him, gathering clothes and covering up the animal in him with humanity. He wants to watch but refrains, terrified to know what he might feel if he does.

Once done, the fox bends down again and just like it began, places his lips at his ear. He whispers, soft as he can with his voice leaving no doubt, "I love you."

_Damn_, Starrk clenches his teeth and squeezes his eyes as the void in his chest burns beautiful and his entire body aches horrible pleasure, _he knows just where to bite._

End.


End file.
